Afternoon Tea
by The Last Good Name Left
Summary: Willow is growing up, but she's not quite sure what that means. Joyce is already grown, and she's even less sure.


Willow had stayed after school to talk to Ms. Calendar, but Ms. Calendar had another appointment, and then Giles hadn't been in the library. Without Giles around, the Library was a little creepy, and besides, his office was locked and there wasn't work to do right now. Maybe hack a little, but Willow wanted some human contact, except that neither Buffy nor Xander was around either. They had both disappeared, and Willow didn't know where they went. She had no interest in going home and doing her homework, so she had made her way to Buffy's house. If Buffy had skipped out without waiting for Willow, she was going to get a stern talking to.

Willow wandered slowly up the walkway, but the front door opened before she reached the porch. Buffy's mother stood in the doorway smiling at Willow. Willow smiled back reflexively and halted at the foot of the stairs.

"Hi, Mrs. Summers."

"Hello, Willow."

Mrs. Summers was wearing a pale blue sweater and brown trousers. Willow admired the way the sweater hung on Mrs. Summers, and then blushed a little, still not confident about her own figure. She barely stopped herself from looking down and comparing her chest to Mrs. Summers'.

"Is Buffy here?" she asked, to distract herself.

"No, I'm sorry. She's... out, somewhere." Mrs. Summers sounded sad, and Willow had a sudden urge to make her feel better. It looked like Buffy had ditched them both.

"Oh," she said, instead. "I guess I'll come back, then. Tell her I stopped by?"

"No, please, come inside," Mrs. Summers said.

Willow climbed up the stairs and stood on the porch awkwardly, playing with the straps on her backpack.

"I haven't seen much of you lately," said Mrs. Summers.

Willow shrugged and toed the porch. "Well, you know," she said absently and risked a small glance at Mrs. Summers. "Junior year, colleges, grades, work, late nights doing... homework! Late nights doing homework, not anything fun, just math and english and..." Willow trailed off.

Mrs. Summers was smiling at her, but Willow was mortified by her babbling.

"I suppose," Mrs. Summers said. She turned to go back inside, and Willow followed. "I wouldn't know about schoolwork this year," Mrs. Summers said as she led the way into the living room. "Buffy hasn't said anything."

"Oh, she's— she's just busy, you know. All that work. Physics." Willow dropped her backpack next to the couch, and sat down primly on the edge of the couch. Mrs. Summers reclined on the other end of the couch, and Willow's eyes were caught by the few inches of skin showing between Mrs. Summers' pant cuff and her shoe as Mrs. Summers crossed her leg.

"Has she said anything about ...?" Mrs. Summers asked.

"No!" Willow said loudly. She tore her glance away from Mrs. Summers' ankle and met her eyes. "She hasn't said anything about... what?"

"Colleges?" Mrs. Summers asked with a small smile

"Oh. Um, what about them?"

"Well, if she's talking to anyone..." Mrs. Summers said, leadingly.

Willow blushed. "She isn't. She's not keeping things from you, I know she isn't. She's just a teenager, like all the other teenagers. Being secretive, but not really. Sort of." Willow bit her lip, trying not to imagine all the things that Buffy was keeping form her mother.

"Of course she is, sweetie," Mrs. Summers said, and reached over to pat Willow's knee. Willow stared at the coffee table, the feel of Mrs. Summers' hand burning against her leg. She couldn't think of anything to say.

Mrs. Summers didn't say anything, either. Willow risked a glance up at her, but didn't expect to actually find Mrs. Summers looking back at her. Willow quickly returned her gaze to the coffee table.

"Would you like some tea?" Mrs. Summers asked, somewhat abruptly.

"Oh!" Willow said. "Yes, that would be... yes."

Mrs. Summers went into the kitchen, and Willow sat on the couch, trying to decide whether to follow or not. She listened to the sounds of gentle clinking from the kitchen, and absently rubbed her knee. Willow was staring into space and still running her fingers over the spot where Mrs. Summers had patted her when Mrs. Summers returned with a tray.

"This is nice," Willow said as Mrs. Summers laid out a full tea pot, two cups with saucers, and matching milk and sugar containers.

"Tell me what's new with you, Willow," Mrs. Summers said when she was done. She didn't retake her seat next to Willow, but instead sat on one of the chairs across from the couch. Willow frowned briefly, disappointed that Mrs. Summers had moved.

"It seems so long since we've had a chance to chat," Mrs. Summers continued.

"Well, I'm working with Ms. Calendar."

"Miss who?" Mrs. Summers sounded confused.

"Oh! Buffy hasn't—?" Willow began to ask, but then shook her head. Obviously, Buffy hadn't mentioned Ms. Calendar; she was too connected to all the other things she didn't mention to her mother. Willow suppressed a sigh, and tried to think how to explain without explaining anything.

"The computer science teacher," she said. "She's showing me about all sorts of things. Computers and programming and—" Willow skidded to a halt, briefly panicked about how to explain what Ms. Calendar was really showing her.

"Yes?" Mrs. Summers prodded in a very motherly tone of voice.

"Um, nothing," Willow said with a grimace.

"I see."

Willow could feel Mrs. Summers looking at her this time, and she actively avoided her stare. She knew she would buckle and tell Mrs. Summers everything if she asked.

After a moment of silence, Mrs. Summers reached out and poured the tea. Willow watched her hands as she worked, graceful and elegant with perfect nails. Her own hands were clumsy, and she chewed her nails when she was nervous which was all the time. When Mrs. Summers was done she asked pleasantly, "And your other classes?"

"She's pagan," Willow blurted, and then blushed bright red.

"Oh?"

"My mom wouldn't like it," Willow explained.

Joyce smiled enigmatically. "I imagine your mother wouldn't approve of an awful lot, Willow."

"Yeah, she's— she's kind of a pain, isn't she?" They shared a secret glance, and Willow's knee throbbed again. She rubbed it and smiled at Mrs. Summers. Mrs. Summers smiled back.

"So, your mother?" Mrs. Summers said.

"My very Jewish mother," Willow interrupted.

"Yes," Mrs. Summers said, nodding. "She wouldn't approve of the pagan part."

Willow shook her head, unable to tear her eyes away from Mrs. Summers' slight smile. "No, not really."

"Is Ms. Calendar teaching you about paganism as well as programming?"

"Yes," Willow said, and leaned forward eagerly. "It's really interesting, about the Goddess and women's authority and all the things we can do to change the world, and claiming your own power and choices and—"

"Really." Mrs. Summers suddenly interrupted, her voice stiff. Willow looked at her curiously; Mrs. Summers was no longer smiling, and Willow frowned, not knowing why. Mrs. Summers sounded almost angry.

"What exactly is Ms. Calendar teaching you, Willow?" Mrs. Summers asked tightly.

Willow shrank back, trying to figure out how to get out of this situation.

"Computers?" she said meekly.

"Just computers?" Mrs. Summers probed.

"Yes?"

"Are you sure?" Mrs. Summers asked. Willow didn't answer, and Mrs. Summers leaned forward and said quietly, "I'm concerned, Willow. Has Ms. Calendar done anything," she paused and pursed her lips. "Inappropriate?"

Willow stared blankly. "Inapp— no! No!" Willow swallowed and tried again. "Not at all. That's... she's a teacher, Mrs. Summers!"

Mrs. Summers didn't look convinced.

"She would never do something like that," Willow insisted. "I'm just a kid. She's like you and Giles! Well, not quite like that, but—"

"I see," Mrs. Summers interrupted her again, still tense. Willow took a deep breath, and waited for Mrs. Summers to ask more questions about what she had been doing after class.

Instead, Mrs. Summers stood up. "I've just remember an appointment. I'm sorry, but I have to leave."

"Oh," Willow said, disappointed. She cast a longing look at her half-full cup of tea, and then stood up on slightly shaky legs. "I'm—" she began, then sighed and picked up her bag. Willow slowly walked to the door, aware that Mrs. Summers was standing very still in the middle of living room, watching her. Mrs. Summers was clenching her hands and frowning.

When she got to the door, Willow turned and asked, "Are you okay?"

Mrs. Summers' lips twisted in something that might have been a smile. "I'm fine, Willow. I just have to remember that I'm an adult, with adult foibles and flaws. As is your Ms. Calendar."

Willow nodded even though she didn't understand, and opened the door. Then she frowned, and turned around to ask Mrs. Summers another question.

"I think you should go, Willow," Mrs. Summers said quietly, not letting her speak, still standing very still.

Willow nodded again, and smiled shyly. Mrs. Summers smiled back, and Willow's smile grew. She stared goofily at Mrs. Summers for a moment.

"You should go," Mrs. Summers said again.

Willow left.


End file.
